


spooky scary sexy times

by thereisnoreality



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Choking, Cuckolding, Dacryphilia, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, First Time, Humiliation, Kinktober 2019, Lapdance, Lingerie, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Red Riding Hood Elements, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trans Mark Lee (NCT), Vibrators, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-15 01:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnoreality/pseuds/thereisnoreality
Summary: written for kinktober 2019. many kinks, plots and pairings, oh my!





	1. unravel me

**Author's Note:**

> these will probably be very quickly written and not all that artful but im trying a new thing let's see if i can write all 31 days 
> 
> day one: first times

When Jeno first lets Renjun push him down on the bed, heart pounding, a shiver snaking up his spine, curling around his neck, his body breaking out into goosebumps at the firm press of Renjun’s fingers on his chest, the pads digging into Jeno’s sternum, he does not assume the night will go the way it does.

He assumes that, because of arbitrary reasons due to size and general overall strength, that he will be the one slowly learning how to open someone up for him for the first time. He assumes that because Renjun had been so willing to let Jeno climb into his bed for tonight, that he would be the one calling the shots. He assumes many things. All of them wrong.

Jeno’s fingers clench in the sheets, head tipped back to the ceiling, panting heavily as Renjun’s fingers, press deeper and deeper into him, his mouth turned to the inside of Jeno’s thigh, the ghost of a smile wafting hot air over the sensitive skin there. Jeno never thought Renjun’s hands were big, quite the opposite actually, as he’d many times interlaced their fingers, marveling at the size difference, but now, they seem far, far bigger than he’d initially thought as they twist and curl into him, eliciting noises Jeno doesn’t think he’s ever made in his life.

“How we feeling up there?” Renjun hums, punctuating the question as he pulls his fingers slowly out.

Jeno gasps, clenching at the sudden emptiness, a whine threatening to slip out the back of his throat. “Go-good,” he pants, swallowing around a dry throat. “It’s a _lot_.”

Renjun laughs. “I’m not sure whether to be pleased or not,” he says as he pushes four fingers into Jeno and Jeno lets out a soft cry, tensing up. It feels fuller than ever before, and there’s pressure at the base of his spine, aching and insistent. His cock spits out more precome than he’s ever seen and Jeno blushes, a high pink turning his face hot.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Jeno gasps.

“Because if you’re saying this now,” Renjun hums idly massaging the muscle of Jeno’s legs. “I wonder what you’ll be saying when I finally get my dick in you.”

“Fuck?”

Renjun laughs, the noise high and sweet, and Jeno grins, momentarily forgetting about the sweat sticking to every possible part of his skin, about his aching cock, about the way Renjun’s insistently pressing up against his prostate, torturing him in the best way possible. Renjun’s hair is curling at the base of his neck, the humidity in the room slowly twisting it up, and his cheeks are a pretty pink, eyes shining brightly as he smacks a kiss to Jeno’s knee before pulling his fingers out slowly.

“Ready?” Renjun asks. “We can always stop, you know.”

Jeno blinks up at him. “Renjun,” he says seriously. “If you don’t fuck me in the next five seconds, I.. I don’t know _what _I’m going to do, but it will not be pretty.”

Renjun’s laugh is louder this time, bursting out of him like confetti does a popper. “I’d kinda like to see that,” he muses, but he does as Jeno wants, slowly pushing his hips up to get a pillow under him, before grabbing a condom.

“Next time,” Jeno murmurs, heart suddenly ratcheting up as Renjun moves closer. This is finally happening, he’s finally going to lose his virginity to his _boyfriend_. Jeno blushes like a schoolgirl.

What a sappy thing to think. “Next time you can totally edge me and we’ll see what happens.” Renjun raises an eyebrow down at him. “Moving quite fast there aren’t we?”

And Jeno opens his mouth to protest, to explain his point of view, to say _emphatically_ that they’re not moving fast at all and Jeno totally wants to be reduced to a shaking mess under Renjun’s perfect hands, but it all falls away when Renjun pushes into him.

Jeno’s pretty sure he’s making a lot of noise. He can’t be too sure, but he doesn’t really care either. It’s hard to give a fuck when Renjun’s dick has shot up to the first wonder of the world on Jeno’s list, every snap of his hips against Jeno’s sending white hot sparks skittering up his body, fireworks flashing behind his eyes.

“You’re so _loud_,” Renjun pants out, proving Jeno’s suspicions.

Jeno whines, finding his tongue useless to form words and wraps his hands around as much of Renjun as he can get, pulling him closer. Renjun groans and his hand comes up, pushing Jeno’s hips down with a strength Jeno didn’t know he possessed as he fucks into Jeno, relentless, overwhelming, like a wave crashing over him.

Renjun’s touching him everywhere, hauling Jeno’s legs up around his waist and using the position to slam him further into the bed with his thrusts and Jeno can’t help the loud yelp that escapes when his cock drags against Renjun’s stomach, gaining friction for the first time that night.

“Jun- Jun-ah,” he whines. And then there’s nothing at all as Renjun’s hand closes around his cock, dragging once, twice, three times and he comes, back arching off the bed so high, it feels like his spine is about to snap. Fire hot pleasure fills his veins and Jeno whimpers through it all, collapsing on the bed, his cock twitching with the effect.

Jeno’s very out of it but it’s terribly attractive, the way Renjun guides his legs down, slowly stroking him through his orgasm, until Jeno twitches with too much overstimulation, before he finally takes himself into consideration, the desperation over taking his pretty features as he pulls gracelessly out of Jeno.

“Wait,” Jeno whines and with the last remaining vestiges of his strength, pulls Renjun atop him and opens his mouth, sucking Renjun down as best he can. It takes Renjun half a minute, maybe more, maybe less - Jeno’s lost all sense of time to really count - to follow, pulling away just in time for come to cover Jeno’s cheeks and lips.

“Gross,” Jeno grumbles as Renjun collapses on the bed beside him. “I think you got come in my hair.”

“You’re so whiny,” Renjun groans, turning his face into Jeno’s chest, still panting. “I just upended your world, be grateful.”

Jeno hums Your Body is A Wonderland loudly until Renjun smacks him, giggles bursting out of both of them as they lay there, still coming down from the best high.


	2. she's got me down on both knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 2: pegging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so unedited

Jaemin is weirdly proud of her toy collection. 

She doesn’t display them others might display their hobbies, like coins of the world, or of shot glasses from every gift shop they’d ever visited, she’s not _that_ perverse. But she _is _proud of her collection. It’s taken years to build and every one of her toys are carefully cleaned and maintained and they’re _all_ a bright, hot pink. 

Jaemin thinks her toys are very pretty but she doesn’t think she’d expected how pretty her favourite dildo would look, buried up to the hilt in Jeno. 

Jaemin considers the sparkly pink dildo as it gets sucked into Jeno’s heat as he sinks back down on it, fingers clenching in his own thighs. 

“I can’t believe you’re more interested in your toy than me,” Jeno huffs, voice bordering on this side of a whine. “Pay attention to _me_, I’m the one doing all the work.” 

Jaemin grins up at him, smoothing her hand along his waist, all curved ivory and sharp muscle, the kind of body Greek sculptors would have died to create, in apology. “You’re my toy, too,” she coos up at him and Jeno glares down at her as best he can, his sweaty hair flopping into his eyes. 

“That’s not as cute as you seem to think,” he informs her, not moving from his spot atop her hips, other than to shift his hips, restless with the unrelenting pressure. 

“I’m always cute,” Jaemin shoots back, and in retaliation because her words aren’t enough to reprimand Jeno, not anymore, not after Jeno realised all he had to do was whine a little too loudly, and look a little too desperate and Jaemin would give him everything he wanted, wraps her hand around his cock, squeezing a little to elicit a pained yelp from Jeno, his hips jerking harshly, sending the ribbed underside of the dildo scraping across her clit. Jaemin loses her breath at the first hit of pleasure she’s gotten all night and her nails dig into Jeno’s thigh. 

“Fuck you,” Jeno pants, thighs twitching under her hold, the corded muscle standing out against his skin. God, Jaemin hates that he’s so hot sometimes, she can’t contain the mess of feelings it stirs up in her. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe you aren’t doing anything,” Jaemin snaps back. She’s soaking, and aching and desperately wanting to come but all Jeno’s done so far is sit on her cock and whine. “Be a good toy and _move_.”

Jeno pouts down at her, unmoving except to grind down a little, her clit twitching at the faint touch and Jaemin loses her patience. She sits up, pulling out harshly, making Jeno whimper, and pushes him down on his front. 

“Up,” she orders, smacking the side of Jeno’s thigh and whines, but obediently pushes his ass up into her. 

“You’re so _bossy_,” he mutters into his arms and Jaemin makes a face down at him, though he’s not looking. 

“You’re so lazy,” she says back, before sliding back inside Jeno, pushing all her hips all the way flush against his. “I can’t believe you won’t even ride me anymore, I’m being too lenient on you.”

Jeno twists his head back to look at her, a dopey grin curling over his lips, his eyes crinkling up. “But you fuck me so well, Minnie,” he sighs, arching his back into her hold. “I feel so good in your hands.”

Jaemin hates the way the words fill her with a inexplicable sense of vicious pride. She _knows_ Jeno’s just manipulating her, knows that he’s nowhere as innocent as he plays but she also doesn’t care right now. 

“You’re damn right,” she mutters, starting up a rhythm, hard and fast, fingers digging into the curve of his waist. “I’m the best fucking lay you’ve ever had and you should say it more often Lee Jeno.”

Jeno just whines, loud and unashamed as Jaemin tilts his hips up for him, slamming back in so hard, Jeno collapses, his knees nearly giving out. “Fuck- Jaemin-ah,” he cries, and Jaemin can see the way he starts to shake, trembling from his arms as he tries to roll his hips back to meet her relentless thrusts. It really doesn’t do all that much for Jaemin, not physically anyway, but god, there’s really no other better sight to Jaemin than the sight of Jeno desperately stroking himself, holding himself up with one hand, his ass sucking in Jaemin’s bright pink dildo, all the desperation he must be feeling coming spitting out in the form of high cries and half breathy moans. 

“Gonna come?” Jaemin coos down at him and Jeno nods as best he can, his hand still curled around his cock and Jaemin grins and speeds up as best she can before smacking the side of Jeno’s thigh again. It’s instantaneous, the way Jeno’s whole body seizes up, muscles shifting under his back as he rides out his orgasm, moaning loudly through it all. “My pretty baby,” Jaemin says, running her hands up and down Jeno’s back as he collapses on the bed, spent. “So good for me, my prettiest toy.”

Jeno whines as she pulls out, but Jaemin’s sure it’s more from the words than the feeling. He turns around as Jaemin loosens the harness, sliding it off and flaps his hands at her, a silent direction for her to come closer. Jaemin’s been soaking wet since before they started and so she wastes no time moving on top of Jeno’s face. 

“It’s not going to take a lot,” she warns, having been far too riled up for far too long, but Jeno just hums, eyes sliding shut as she twists her fingers into his hair and yanks her down on top of him. Jaemin doesn’t know where Jeno learned to eat pussy like this, because it certainly _wasn’t_ with her, but god bless the person that had taught him because Jeno eats her out like it’s his mission in life. 

He licks at her clit before nipping at it with his lips and pulls her down as much as he can, burying his face in her. Jaemin groans, her free hand slamming up against the headboard as she yanks at his hair and basically rides his face until her orgasm shudders over her, hot and racking her with goosebumps, turning her limbs to jelly. Jeno licks at her again, kittenish in his tentativity and Jaemin whimpers, clenching around nothing as over stimulation hits her, her legs slamming around his head before she pulls off, collapsing on the bed next to him. Only then does Jeno open his eyes, smiling at her as their gazes meet. 

“Pretty,” he says, poking her nose with his finger and Jaemin is so overwhelmed she leans down to kiss him, licking the taste of herself out of his mouth. 

“You’re prettier,” she says in an almost accusing tone as she flops down against his chest, ignoring that they’re both covered in disgusting sweat and other fluids. “My prettiest toy.”

Jeno blushes up her, pink dusting over his cheeks shyly and Jaemin grins up at him. She’d meant it, after all, when she said her toys were the prettiest in the world. 


	3. angel in the streets, devil in the sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 3: lap dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is late but i had two exams today so im giving myself some slack. also. this is not meant to be a jeno fest, but i couldn't have lapdance as a prompt and Not put jeno in it. 
> 
> please do let me know if you see any errors or like.. glaring discrepancies im truly exhausted and did not look this over even once

Doyoung is slowly wiping down the bar, glancing over at Yuta who was still cleaning the main floor before flicking his gaze to the clock. It was nearing three in the morning but the thing that continued to surprise Doyoung, no matter how long he’d worked in these conditions, was how little tired he was. But owning a strip club tended to fuck with your internal clock a little. 

“Has everyone else gone home?” Doyoung asks when Yuta winds his way back around to the bar, popping open the register to gather the cash. 

Yuta frowns, thinking. “I’m pretty sure,” he says, tongue poking into the side of his cheek as he flips through the bills. “Oh, I didn’t see Jeno leave, yet. But I might be wrong.”

Doyoung hums. “I’ll go make sure all the lights are off upstairs.” Yuta waves him off, still flicking the bills at superhuman speed, long fingers deftly handling the load, and Doyoung has a faint flash of memory, of those fingers being buried in him, driving him insane. 

Not many people tended to start a business after breaking up with their exes, and Doyoung’s sure that even less people in that miniscule category started a strip club. But Doyoung and Yuta were never quite the conventional couple everyone else expected them to be. 

The upstairs rooms branch off into two hallways, one reserved for clientele who were willing to pay for the pleasure of a solo show, and the other for changing rooms, and one practice room Doyoung and Yuta had had converted after their first truly profitable year. 

The lights on the client rooms are all off but there’s still a light shining under the door leading to the practice room and Doyoung purses his lips before opening the door. 

The music is low, bass thrumming slowly across the floor, rattling the wooden boards before it reaches Doyoung, rumbling into his bones. Doyoung’s pretty sure it’s a Weeknd song but he’s not sure; for a person who owns a strip club, he was remarkably uneducated in the instruments used to run it. 

“I thought I told you to go home,” Doyoung says, loud enough that it can be heard over the music. 

Jeno pauses in his turn on the pole, narrowing his eyes to squint at Doyoung. “It’s not that late,” he refutes quietly, letting his arms dangle, holding himself upright only by his thighs. Doyoung swallows around nothing but doesn’t look away. 

“It’s almost three in the morning,” he says, walking to Jeno, taking in the neat surroundings, Jeno’s backpack in the corner, his phone sitting beside the speaker. Closer now, Doyoung can see the sweat dripping down Jeno’s arms, the effort clearly shown on his face as he holds himself up, defying gravity every second. “Go home, Jeno. You’ve got class in the morning.”

“It got cancelled,” Jeno says, pushing his lip out but he unwinds from the pole, landing neatly before Doyoung. “Why are you still here?”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “Cleaning,” he says. “Running a club isn’t easy, you know.”

“Neither is working at it.” Jeno shoots him a cheeky grin. “It’s why I was practicing, I’ve got a new routine, kinda. Wanna see?”

Doyoung considers the work still left downstairs before remembering the way Yuta had grinned at him before directing the 10 very drunk bachelorette party goers to the bar, leaving Doyoung at their mercy. “Yeah, I can stay for a while. What’d you have?”

Jeno pulls the chair, sitting by the wall and sets it in the middle of the room, jerking his chin at it. 

Doyoung looks at the chair then back at Jeno, uncomprehending. “What?”

“Sit.” Jeno waves his hand at the chair, rolling his neck around. 

“It’s a lap routine?” Doyoung flushes, hating the way his voice wavers. Doyoung Kim does not waver. 

“Well, yeah,” Jeno says, in a tone that implies he’s seriously considering Doyoung’s intelligence. “Sit.”

Doyoung makes no move towards the chair. “Um- can’t you just show me?”

“Doyoung,” Jeno whines. “I can’t do a lapdance on an empty chair, that’s ridiculous.”

_More ridiculous than me popping a boner over you?_ Doyoung thinks but he obediently makes his way over to the chair, gracelessly plopping down on it. “Well, go on then. I need to finish locking up.”

Jeno makes a face at him. “You could be more enthusiastic, you know.”

Doyoungs hums, shoving all of his dark, dark thoughts to the back of his mind, watching as Jeno crosses the room, flicking through the playlist on his phone and starting up a song before turning back around. 

The second the song starts, a low hum of a synth before the bass drops, shattering and hard, Doyoung knows he’s very screwed. 

Jeno slowly walks towards him and Doyoung can see his expression change. Something settles into his muscles, something cool and smooth, seductive in a way he never is in daily life. His eyes darken as he sways to the music, moving closer and closer. 

Then he abruptly leans down and pushes Doyoung’s knees apart, forcing his legs wide. Jeno peers up at him with those damnable eyes. “You’ve got to give me room to work with, you know.” He murmurs, and he’s so close, Doyoung can feel his breath hitting his face. 

“I don’t understand why you’re under the impression that I know anything about how these things go,” he manages instead of doing something stupid like haul Jeno into his lap and fuck him until he cries. Or fuck him up against the mirror until he cries. Doyoung’s dick really isn’t picky. “I’m not often on the receiving end of one of these. Or on the giving end for that matter.”

Jeno sucks in lower lip into his mouth in a faint grin as drops down low. “Well, now you are.” He points out. “And be quiet while I’m doing this, I need to concentrate.”

Doyoung manages for half a second but then Jeno does a very sexy looking grind in the air right above Doyoung’s lap. “How much of this is concentration?” He chokes out when he’s sure he’s not going to get out of this without at least a very embarrassing half boner. He’s no stranger to seeing Jeno act so… seductive, but usually he’s far removed from it, at the back of the bar or in the office. He’s never had Jeno’s _everything _so close to him before. 

“Most of it’s just instinct,” Jeno says shyly, so fucking endearing even when he’s curling his body in a sensuous body wave right in front of Doyoung. “It’s good, right?”

Doyoung stares up at him with wide eyes, and at a lack of response Jeno pauses, tipping his head sideways. “Doyoung?” Always eager for praise. Always wanting more. It’s no wonder Jeno ended up in the career he occupies today.

Doyoung swallows around a dry throat. “You look really good,” he chokes out and only after realises how sincere it might sound. 

Jeno stares at him for a beat longer, then his grin widens, something sweet and triumphant coming through it. “Really?” He asks and without any further ado, slings a strong thigh over Doyoung’s lap, dropping down on it. “Oh,” Jeno breathes, grinding down experimentally, his eyes going wide as he meets Doyoung’s gaze. “You’re hard.”

“Well you try sitting through that and trying not to have a reaction,” Doyoung snipes out, and Jeno tips his head back to laugh. “What were you thinking about?” He asks, looking back down at Doyoung, his hips grinding down harder, no longer an illusion, no longer a ghost of air along Doyoung’s skin. No, now Jeno was very fully and clearly real, heat pouring off him as he leans closer to Doyoung. “Tell me,” he pushes, lips pressing out into a pout. “I wanna know what you were thinking while I was dancing for you.”

Doyoung stares down at him. They’re so close it’s making him breathless and Doyoung hates feeling like he’s lost something, like he’s the loser in the battle and it’s what drives him to slide his hands up Jeno’s thighs, gripping one hard as his other hand wraps around Jeno’s waist, yanking him closer. “I thought about fucking you right here, in this chair. Then, I figured it might break and that I should probably fuck you up against the mirror, because you’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d like looking at yourself as I took you apart.”

As he was speaking, Jeno’s cheeks had only progressively gotten redder and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Doyoung tips his head and smirks. “Right, Jeno?” 

“Yeah.”

Doyoung blinks. “What?” 

Jeno sits up straighter in his lap. “Yes, I’d like that,” he says firmly, despite the red blush streaking across his face. “You should totally do that, right now.”

Doyoung stares at him for a beat longer, then wraps his hand in Jeno’s hair and yanks him forward into a bruising kiss.


	4. are you curious enough to taste it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 4: cuckholding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen... it had to be done

The day Donghyuck had asked Renjun out had been a rainy one. It had been pouring rain the whole day and really that one sign, excluding _all_ the others that had come before it, should have warned Renjun to not say yes. 

If anything, the moment Donghyuck had put up the idea, slid it across the table with all the energy of someone handling a newborn kitten in their hands, Renjun should have realised that his boyfriend was set out to kill him. 

If _anything_ past that, the second Jung Jaehyun had showed up at their door, a sheepish smile on his dough face, his peach hair raked back to reveal absurdly handsome features, Renjun should have realised that this night was going to be pure and simple torture and should have run out the door right then and there, pushing past Jaehyun and disappearing into the night. 

Any of the embarrassment that would have occurred from that incident would have been far better cry than the utter _humiliation_ he was experiencing now. 

Renjun swallows around a dry throat, his hands clenching on the thick fabric of his jeans as he watches Jaehyun slowly start to fuck into Donghyuck, drawing gasps out of him with every breath. He should have said no, he should have refused, should have pushed against the idea that he would have wanted anything to do with it. But Donghyuck was always far too clever for his own good and that intelligence only seemed to sharpen around Renjun. 

And so when Renjun’s eyes trace the outline of Jaehyun’s body when he goes to pick Donghyuck up after his dance practice, Donghyuck notices. And when Renjun watches a little too long when Jaehyun makes out with another senior, curling around him in the press of the party, the music thrumming through his veins, Donghyuck _notices_. And when Renjun whimpers out something, too quiet to be really heard, when Donghyuck rocks into him, lips pressed to the curve of his cheek, Donghyuck notices and he makes a plan. 

A plan Renjun is very much regretting agreeing to now as Donghyuck lets out a cry, high and shaky as Jaehyun’s large hands dig into his waist, fucking him harder, fingerprints pressing the warm skin to yellow with the force before shifting up and letting red flow back into the place where his fingers once lay. 

Renjun’s job is to sit and to watch and to not touch himself. Donghyuck’s job is to let himself be fucked by the man, Renjun’s silently lusted over for the better part of a year. And it’s Jaehyun’s job to drive him crazy. 

His dick is straining at his jeans and it’s so fucking uncomfortable and with every high gasp that tumbles out of Donghyuck, it twitches as if reminder of where Renjun was, of what his situation was. Renjun shifts and palms himself over his jeans and like magic, Donghyuck’s eyes slide open and pin him to where he sits. 

“No touching,” he says, the edge of the words snapping away on a harsh gasp. Jaehyun doesn’t look up and Renjun traces the lines of his back, his muscles shifting under the power of his thrusts. How can one person be so good looking? 

“Fuck you,” Renjun spits, but he wrenches his hands away, fisting them in the couch, and Donghyuck laughs, lazily tipping his head back to the ceiling, rolling his hips up to meet Jaehyun’s. 

“How’s it feel, Renjun-ah?” Donghyuck asks quietly, his voice rasping over the sounds. “To watch this? Do you wish you were in my place? Wanna feel how it feels to get fucked by hyung?” 

“Fuck,” Renjun whispers, not meaning to, but Donghyuck hears it, and if the way Jaehyun stiffens, wrapping his hands around the underside of Donghyuck’s thighs and hauling him into his lap, sitting upright to fuck him harder is any indication, he hears it too. 

“I wish you could feel it Renjun-ah,” Donghyuck gasps, breaking off to moan when Jaehyun seems to hit his prostrate. “Oh, _fuck_, it feels so good, you’ve _never_ fucked me like this- I can’t- _hyung_,” he gasps, fingers digging into Jaehyun’s arms. It seems to be too much for Donghyuck because no further words come, only moans and whines, higher and higher in pitch, spilling out from his perfect pink lips. 

Renjun flushes at the words, humiliation spreading across him, low and slow but he doesn’t look away. He _knows_ Donghyuck doesn’t mean it, not really, but there’s just something about those words, so cruelly plain in their nature as Donghyuck loses himself to pleasure, that sends a hot wave crawling over Renjun, his dick leaking more in his jeans. Donghyuck’s exaggerating his motions, his moans, making himself seem bigger, sound louder and it’s so casually degrading, to show Renjun this, that Renjun almost just gives up, almost gives into the hard pressure pressing against his dick. 

He doesn’t though. This is, at its core, a game. Renjun hates losing, but he hates losing to Donghyuck even more. So he keeps his hands at his side and watches as Jaehyun’s rythm gets sloppy, hard and fast, his nails digging into Donghyuck’s skin as he comes, a low groan muffled into Donghyuck’s skin. 

“You good, hyungie?” Donghyuck gasps out, breathless as Jaehyun pulls out. 

Jaehyun nods. “Shower?” He asks, flicking a glance over at Renjun, smile growing on his face when he takes in Renjun’s demeanour. “I think you gotta tend to your boyfriend first.”

Donghyuck waves him off. “First door on the right,” he says casually and narrows his eyes at Renjun as the door shuts behind Jaehyun. “How you doing, babe?” 

“Like I want to kill you,” Renjun grits out, yanking off his shirt, his jeans flying in the same direction as he crawls over Donghyuck’s body, yanking him into a kiss, angry and bruising. He hates to admit it, probably doesn’t have to after this long with Donghyuck, because they both know each other like the back of their hands by now, but there’s something ugly and possessive yanking at him, telling him to forcefully take back what’s _his_. To claim Donghyuck as his own again, to make him forget about anyone else’s hands on top of him. “Also like I want to fuck you.”

“Well,” Donghyuck groans, wrapping his legs around Renjun’s waist, yanking him down so that Renjun’s cock brushes his entrance. “Do the second thing first, then you can worry about murdering me.” 

Donghyuck comes with Renjun’s name high on his lips, his fingers yanking at his hair cruelly, and his legs tightening so hard around Renjun’s waist, it seems like his bones are going to give out under the pressure of Donghyuck’s thighs. And Renjun comes down Donghyuck’s throat, fucking out all his anger until Donghyuck’s crying, his lashes thick with tears. 

Honestly, Renjun ruminates later after he and Donghyuck have cleaned themselves up and after Jaehyun had been waved out the door by a shamelessly cheerful Donghyuck and a beet red Renjun, and after they’ve curled up in bed together, wrapped around each other, he’s probably never been more in love. 


	5. my hands are shaking from holding back from you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 5: corruption
> 
> i'd just like to point out that mark is trans here, and i am not but i did have someone (thank you sm jesse <3) look it over for me, but if there is anything about this fic that strikes you as insensitive or ignorant, please do not hesitate to let me know.

“You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want,” Yuta murmurs, pressing his lips to the shell of Mark’s ear as he waits for Mark’s response. “It won’t bother me one bit if you say no.”

But here’s the thing. He knows Mark will. They haven’t been dating for that long, but by now, Yuta can tell that there is a shatteringly desperate need to listen rooted deep within Mark. A need to obey. And it only ever comes out in situations like these.

Mark shudders against the bed, eyes going glassy as Yuta’s fingers pull away from him. “I want to,” he whispers quietly. “I wanna try, at least.”

Yuta grins, burying his smile right in the curve of Mark’s neck and shoulder. “You sure?” He asks again, just to make sure Mark isn’t doing this out of any kind of obligation. “I know I push you a lot-”

“I _like _it when you push me,” Mark blurts, glancing at Yuta for half a second before his gaze pulls away and a blush rockets to the tops of his cheeks. “Just-” he shifts, restless. “I’m okay with trying, I promise. I want to do this.”

Yuta smiles at him, fingers twitching against Mark’s clit, making him squirm, before pulling away entirely. “Okay,” he says, pressing a kiss to Mark’s lips before getting up. “Up you get, you’ve got class in an hour.”

Mark whines, rolling over on his stomach, splaying out his limbs all over. “You fucked me too good, I can’t get up.”

Yuta laughs, smacking the side of his thigh lightly. “You’re gonna be late for class if you don’t jump in the shower soon. And we can’t try the thing out if you don’t get to class.”

Mark groans up at him but he rolls off the bed and trods off to the shower, pinching Yuta’s arm in retaliation as he goes.

Mark’s busiest class is Calculus Two, held at nine in the morning, three times a week, and thus means that only about 25% of the class actually shows up, and those that do, are either asleep or hungover. So, it’s the best class to do what they want.

Mark settles gingerly down in the last seat at the back of the lecture hall, burrowing down in his hoodie as soon as he can and ducking his head so as to not draw any attention to him. Yuta grins at him, slinging his arm over the back of Mark’s chair and tugging playfully at his opposite ear. “You good?”

“F-fine,” Mark whispers, shifting on the seat, a flush crawling over his cheeks. “I just gotta make it through this class, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuta murmurs, running fingers over the back of Mark’s neck, trying to soothe him. “But you can stop it at any time, you know that right?”

Mark nods and then straightens as the professor starts talking, digging hurriedly in bag for a pen. Yuta swallows back his grin and pulls out his phone to play with - even with a plug in him, Mark was still invested in schooling.

In Mark’s defense, he lasts the better part of the hour and Yuta would have admitted, if pressed, that he probably would have gone the whole time without breaking, but Yuta’s kind of an asshole and so when he pulls out the tiny remote hidden in his pocket and clicks the vibrator button, he does so without an ounce of guilt.

Mark gasps the second Yuta turns the vibrator on, pen clattering onto the table from his loose fingers. He turns to Yuta with wide eyes and Yuta tips his head at him, unable to stop the smile from curling about his lips.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“You,” Mark starts but then Yuta flicks the setting a notch higher and Mark lets out a high whimper, loud enough to gather some curious gazes directed at them and he blushes fiercer, burying his face in his arm. “_Yuta_.”

“Mark,” Yuta parrots back, ticking the level up higher. “You’re drawing attention to yourself, baby.”

It’s almost endearing, the way Mark tries so hard not to squirm. Yuta hadn’t realised how easy it would be to lead Mark into the dark, drawing him out of the shy, quiet shell he’d been in, only having broken to laugh loudly at the strangest of times, to this perfect man, so obedient and so ready to follow Yuta in everything. It was far more headying than Yuta had ever thought. 

Mark whines, his hand clenching on his own arm as he tries not to make any more noise. “I- you didn’t tell me-”

Yuta grins, bringing up his free hand to curl over the back of his neck. “You good?”

It takes a second, but when no further higher vibrations come, Mark nods, shakily sitting up. “Yeah,” he murmurs, meeting Yuta’s gaze. His eyes are bright and dark, and his cheeks are flushed and Yuta smiles fondly at him before flicking the vibrator all the way up. Mark seizes up, eyes widening and slaps a hand over his mouth. “Fuck - _no_,” he gasps and then he’s grabbing his bag and yanking Yuta out the back of his lecture.

Yuta laughs, a little too loudly, as they slam into the nearest bathroom and into the cubicle. Mark’s backpack goes flying as he curls shaking fingers into Yuta’s hoodie. “Yuta,” Mark gasps out, trembling. “It’s too high, I’m-”

“Shh,” Yuta murmurs, and he kisses Mark’s cheek softly as he unbuttons Mark’s jeans. “You’re being too loud, baby. Try to calm down for me.”

“I can’t,” Mark whines, head tipping back against the stall door. “I’m gonna come- I’m-”

Yuta turns the vibrator off and Mark whimpers too loudly. “Why’d you _stop_?” He begs hands fumbling for Yuta. “Yuta, _please_.”

“I got you, baby, don’t worry,” Yuta murmurs, smiling. Mark looks utterly debauched already, panting and shaking against the door. “You’ve been so, so good for me, I’m going to take care of you so well.” And he pushes down Mark’s boxers and gently pulls out the vibrator, before sliding a finger into him.

It doesn’t take long, after that. Yuta doesn’t want to brag, but he’s pretty good with his fingers and Mark’s been riled up for too long and it only takes a couple minutes, his thumb flicking over Mark’s clit, mouthing at Mark’s neck, sucking dark flowery bruises into his neck, for Mark to come, way too loud, his shaky cry echoing around the bathroom. Mark sags in Yuta’s arms and he barely manages to catch him before he falls to the ground.

“Are you okay, baby?” Yuta murmurs, stroking his thumb over Mark’s cheek as Mark pulls his clothes back on, still shaking. “How’re we feeling?”

Mark swallows, meeting Yuta’s gaze with a bright gaze. “So good,” he breathes, yanking Yuta into a messy kiss, their teeth clacking with the force of it. “Yuta, _fuck_, it was so _good_.”

Yuta grins against his Mark’s lips, pecking him with several short kisses before pulling away. “I’m glad, but I think we need to get out of here, there’s no way no one didn’t hear you moan like that.”

Mark flushes, bright red and smacks Yuta on the arm. “Oh my god, what are we still doing here?” He whines, grabbing his backpack. “Let’s go!”

Yuta laughs as they scramble out of the building, hands still interlaced.


	6. oh baby do you want me (crying for you?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 6: dacryphilia

“Baby,” Kun coos, stroking Ten’s cheek as he chokes around the gag, eyes filling up with tears at the force of it. “You look so pretty for me.” 

Ten whines, his eyelashes thick with tears, running down his cheeks, dripping off his chin and Kun absolutely has to thumb at it before it drops to the floor, smoothing his thumb in circles on Ten’s cheek. “My pretty kitty,” Kun murmurs. 

Ten’s been sitting like this for a while now, at the foot of their bed, his hands held together behind his back, without any outside force, a gag in his mouth. It’s not often that they get the time out of their busy lives to do things like this - not when it takes hours of slow mental and physical preparation to break Ten down to the very basest parts of himself before slowly building them back up. But tonight… tonight is a special one. 

Tonight they have no work, no other pressing schedules, no events, nothing to worry about. And so tonight, Ten kneels at Kun’s feet, mouth gagged, unable to speak, and cheeks wet from his warm tears. 

Kun’s not sure when he started to realise that he liked it when Ten cried, just that it was a certain point of fascination, too deeply buried at first, that started occupying the forefront of his mind every single time he and Ten fucked. Every time, he would snap his hips a little harder, tighten his fingers around the pale arch of Ten’s nek a little tighter, speak his words, sweet and meant to dismantle, a little meaner. And every time, without fail, Ten would cry and the simple wave of hot pleasure that washed over Kun at the sight was superseded by no other. 

Kun knows exactly how long Ten’s been sitting here, but given by the slightly glass look in Ten’s eyes, that doesn’t have anything to do with the tears streaking down his face, he reckons Ten probably doesn’t. He flicks a glance at his phone. Forty minutes. 

“I’m going to take this off now, okay kitten?” Kun asks, lowering his hand to Ten’s face. Ten jerks at the feeling of Kun’s finger brushing his swollen lips but he nods, arching his neck further for Kun. Obedient till the end. 

Ten coughs as the gag slides out, smacking his lips together but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move as Kun goes to deposit the gag to be cleaned at a later time. 

“Need some water?” 

Ten nods, silently watching him and Kun smiles down at him as he procures the water bottle from the bedside table. Ten doesn’t raise his hands, doesn’t even twitch, but none of it’s needed, as Kun had previously put a straw in the top of the bottle to make it easier for drinking. 

“Colour?” Kun asks after Ten drinks his fill. 

Ten clears his throat. “Green,” he whispers and his voice is hoarse already, from the muffled sobbing his throat had had to endure while Kun had laid him flat out on the bed and had spanked him until he was truly crying. 

“Good,” Kun murmurs, smoothing his hand down Ten’s cheek again. The tears have dried and Ten doesn’t look like he’s about to fall apart in Kun’s arm. Which is situation that clearly needs to be rectified straight away. “You still have your ball?”

Ten nods. It was a heavy metal ball, put into Ten’s hands at the start of every session that wouldn’t allow Ten the use of his voice or his hands. If dropped, it would make a loud sound, too loud to ignore.

“Good,” Kun praises, leaning down to kiss Ten’s pouty mouth once because he looked too precious not to. “I’m going to fuck your mouth, baby,” he murmurs against Ten’s lips. “If you want to stop, you drop the ball, do you understand? Speak.”

“Yes,” Ten whispers, his voice low and thready. “I do.”

Kun sits up and slowly unbuttons his jeans, a small shot of pleasure, of gratification shooting through him when he sees Ten’s gaze darken, his eyes snapping to the bulge that had been straining at Kun’s pants the whole time. “Open up, kitten.”

Ten was very good at sex. It had been one of the things that had really intimidated Kun when they’d first met, that Ten was so confident, ready to put himself out there, and when he did, he did so with the intention to blow your mind. And even years of dating him hasn’t numbed Kun to the fact that Ten is still very, _very_ good at sex. 

He lets himself sink into the tight, warm heat of Ten’s mouth, hand going up to fist his hair, letting Ten adjust around him. When he starts tonguing at the side of Kun’s cock, that’s when he starts, yanks Ten’s head back roughly before shoving him down again, arching his hips into the sensation with a quiet sigh. 

Ten’s taken worse, they both know it. But there’s always a feeling of surprise when Ten gags, newly formed tears filling up his eyes instantly. 

“So fucking pretty,” Kun gasps, reaching forward to brush the tears away. “God, Tennie, you’re so pretty when you cry.” 

Ten whines, the sound getting cut off as Kun fucks his cock deeper into his throat, the convulsing of Ten’s throat around him, the best feeling in the world. 

It takes shorter than Kun would like to admit but he when he comes down Ten’s throat, it’s like the world around him vanishes, leaving a simple spotlight between the two of them. Ten pulls off as soon as Kun taps his cheek, coughing and panting, crying nonstop as he does so, chest heaving with the effort. 

“My pretty kitty,” Kun coos, smoothing his tears away, as he comes down himself. He pulls Ten up by the arms, gently mauvering him on the bed. “You can pull your arms away now, you did so, so good for me.” He kisses Ten’s cheeks, kissing away the tears, massaging the feeling back into Ten’s arms as he does so. “My favourite boy.”

Ten turns his face into Kun’s silently asking for a kiss and Kun grants it to him, his hand sneaking down to thumb at Ten’s cock. Ten comes in under a minute, a fresh wave of tears spilling over when Kun persists in touching him, touching past the point of pleasure and Kun revels in it. 

Ten always did look the prettiest when he cried. 


	7. religion’s in your lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 7: lingerie

Jongin’s day dawns bright and early.

By the time the hour hand has ticked along to six, he’s already showered and dressed and on the way to work, sitting in the back of his car, slowly rolling his shoulders back under his bespoke coat. Perhaps he’d gone too hard during arm day this morning.

He watches the city slowly wake up around him as the car zooms past the bridge before trundling slowly into early morning traffic.

“Would you mind turning on the news?” He calls up to the driver.

“Of course, sir.”

Jongin leans against the back of the seat, careful not to mess up his hair and watches the people walk past him, faster than the car itself is moving.

“Good morning, sir,” greets him brightly as he steps off the elevator onto his office floor. His assistant looks up from her desk with a wide smile, dark berry lipstick stretched across her lips. “A package came for you first thing this morning, special courier.” She holds out a nondescript bag, plain brown with black lace loops to hold with.

“Thank you.” Jongin smiles at her as he takes it before turning the doorknob and opening the door to his office.

His office sits on the highest floor of the building, a dizzying 45 floors above the city floor, and it’s such so that now, at seven in the morning, after an hour of sitting in New York traffic, the morning sun hits Jongin full face in the eye as he enters. The furniture wasn’t picked by Jongin but he does quite like the design, all sleek monochrome interiors, simple abstract art decorating the walls.

Jongin glances down at the bag in his hands before placing it carefully on his desk. He doesn’t allow himself to look at it, not yet. Not until half of his emails for that morning have been cleared out from his inbox and several calls have been returned. He doesn’t allow himself to look at it quite so soon, lets the anticipation build up in his gut, swirling tighter and tighter with every breath he takes.

Only an hour before noon does he finally look up, locking the door to his office with a word to his assistant before walking back to his desk, slowly and deliberately.

There’s a box inside the bag, sleek velvet covering the outside. Jongin carefully sets the bag aside and opens the box. There’s tissue covering the object inside and it allows Jongin the second he needs to take a slow, mollifying breath before he flips the tissue over. He’s glad he took that breath because all of the air leaves his lungs when he sees the baby pink lingerie.

There’s a card lying on the lace and Jongin picks it up with steady fingers, slowly flipping the card over. In curly calligraphy, the card reads _Per Se - Seven PM. Wear this. _There’s a heart almost absentmindedly doodled on the corner and Jongin’s mouth twitches in a small smile. He places the card aside and finally, finally examines the lingerie.

It’s a soft baby pink, lace curling around the edges. There’s stockings as well, and an impossibly lacy belt, so thin and delicate that it Jongin wonders at how its held together. He brushes his fingers against the fabric and he can’t help the small blush that curls over his cheeks, heat rising to his face, when he feels the soft threads holding the pretty configuration together.

Then he glances at the clock and carefully puts everything back in the bag, placing it behind his drawers, well hidden from view before he gets back to work. Seven hours left.

An hour before the dinner, Jongin locks his office door again, after waving goodnight to his assistant before opening the door to his private bathroom in his office, the back clutched in his fingers.

It doesn’t take very long for him to put everything together. The fabric is soft and gentle, sliding like water over his skin, as he peels the stockings up, carefully, admiring himself in the mirror all the while as he goes. On top of that goes his proper dinner clothes, and if the swish of his pants legs flash a little too high, if his socks ride down even an inch, then anyone would be able to see the pink stockings under his pants, pulled all the way up to mid-thigh. It sends a slow warm heat running down Jongin’s back, the knowledge that anyone could look at him, at just the right time, just the right moment, and see everything he’s hiding.

The car ride to the restaurant is not as calm as it was in the morning to work. Jongin settles against the back of the car, forcing his shoulders down and closes his eyes.

_Per Se_ is one of Jongin’s favourite restaurants. The French cuisine is exquisite, the atmosphere lovely and the memories associated with it, always a nice reminder.

He climbs out of the car when they pull up to the restaurant, pulling his coat tighter around himself, half for warmth from the cold, half to calm the nervousness pounding in his heart.

“Yes, sir? Do you have a reservation?” The waiter at the front of the desk looks up with a friendly smile.

“I’m meeting someone,” Jongin murmurs, pulling off his coat and folding it over his arm.

“Name?”

“Jongin Kim.”

“Ah, this way sir,” the waiter steps around the podium. “He’s been waiting for you.”

Jongin smiles tightly as he follows the waiter around the edge of the room to a private room at the back of the restaurant. The waiter waves him in, with a pleasant smile and Jongin nods at him before wrapping his hand around the doorknob and pushing it open.

Mark looks up from the table the moment the door opens. “You made it,” he says happily, softly. “I’m glad, I thought work would call you away again.”

Jongin smiles at him, less tight, more real than before as he settles into the seat opposite Mark. “I battled my way through clients to meet you.”

Mark’s nose scrunches up, a quick here and there of childish delight before it gets swept away again, hidden under his CEO persona. “Did you like the gift?”

Jongin shifts, feeling the fabric press against him in the most delicious way and going by the flash in Mark’s eyes, it doesn’t go unnoticed. “I did,” he admits, unable to stop the blush from rocketing to his cheeks again. “Thank you, it was beautiful.”

“Beautiful enough to let me take you home tonight?” Mark blurts, quick and far too fast to be suave.

Jongin laughs and settles against his chair. “Impress me with dinner first, Markie. Then we’ll see how easily you can entice me into bed.”

Mark grins and takes Jongin’s hand, lying on the table, pulling it up for a quick kiss. “I’ll do my best,” he says, lips brushing against Jongin’s hand.

Jongin shivers, not from anticipation or nervousness, but from the look in Mark's eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote markai
> 
> (i might write a sequel, or a longer version of this later tbh i just dont have anytime rn)


	8. i'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 8: enchanted

“I think I’ve been poisoned!” Donghyuck exclaims as quietly as he can flopping down on the grass by his friends. Neither Jaemin or Renjun so much as bat an eye but Jeno shoots up from where he was lying on the grass, worried. 

“What do you mean, poisoned?” Jeno demands, yanking at Donghyuck’s arm. Bless Jeno, he was clearly the only one who cares about Donghyuck’s well being. Donghyuck shoots a nasty look at Jaemin and Renjun who were back to haf focusing on their cards, flipping them over at a dizzying speed. 

“Well?” Renjun asks when Donghyuck doesn’t say anything else. “What’s wrong with you?”

Donghyuck swallows, rubbing at his chest. He’s been feeling like this since yesterday, something tight and intense swirling around in his chest, again and again. “I don’t know, I was feeling out of sorts after practice yesterday, I think one of the bludgers hit me a little too hard and then when I left the Hospital Wing, I started to feel really off,” he grimaces rubbing at his chest harder. “I thought it might have have something I ate but I had two digestion potions today and I didn’t feel any better.”

Jeno’s worried expression vanishes. “So you’re just feeling off?” He asks flopping back on the ground and yanking at Jaemin’s leg until he long-sufferingly gives in, letting Jeno rest his head on his thigh. “That’s not poisoned, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck scrunches his nose up at them. “When I die and you guys end up at my funeral, I’d like you to remember this moment,” he pronounces, getting up to flounce off. 

“Have you considered someone spiked you with a love potion, hyung?” Jisung asks brightly over dinner. 

Donghyuck looks up, narrowing a gaze at him. “Have _you_ spiked my drinks with a love potion recently, Jisungie?”

Jisung scrunches up his nose. “Ew, why would I?” He asks. “I’m just saying, hyung, there’s been a lot of love potions going around the castle, even last week that seventh year, Yuto? Yuta? Someone? He apparently got slipped a love potion and spent like a week chasing after Doyoung Kim.” He sucks a large amount of pumpkin juice down gleefully. “I heard it was _humiliating_.”

Donghyuck purses his lips considering. The tightening in his chest has only gotten worse as the days have passed and something keeps pulling him back to the Hospital Wing, despite there being no outward sign of sickness. He doesn’t have any desire to chase after a random boy or girl, has no dizzying spells, no love struck gazes he can’t seem to tear himself away from. 

“I just might,” he sighs, snatching a tart off Jisung’s plate and eating half of it in one bite when Jisung loudly protests, grinning in satisfaction. 

Moon Taeil is the nurse of duty when Donghyuck walks. He’s the assistant nurse, having just graduated Hogwarts three years earlier to do his apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s before coming back to Hogwarts.

Donghyuck spies him and instantly starts blushing. 

Moon Taeil had also been, at that time, the object of Donghyuck’s most ardent - and silent - obsessions. 

“Donghyuck!” Taeil says happily. “You’re back again? Surely I haven’t done that bad a job of helping you last time.”

Donghyuck blushes harder and tries not to stutter when he says, “No, I’m sure you didn’t,” he mumbles, raking the sleeves of his robes down over his hands. “I’ve just been feeling out of sorts for a couple days now. I thought it was just food maybe, but nothing I’ve taken’s worked.”

“Well, sit down,” Taeil gestures at the nearest bed, washing his hands in the sink before striding over. “Slide your robes off, please?”

Donghyuck pushes the outer part of his robes off, sliding up the sleeves of his sweater when Taeil gestures for his hands. He trails the wand over the tip of the Donghyuck’s skin, humming to himself. “What do you think is wrong?”

Donghyuck stammers. “I don’t know - I mean, Jisung - a friend said there was a bunch of love potions running about school.”

Taeil smiles down at him, amusement clear in every perfect curve of his face. “You think someone slipped you a love potion?”

Donghyuck shrinks. “I don’t,” he protests, sure his face on fire by now. Taeil’s much too close, standing in between Donghyuck’s knees as he trails his wand higher. “I just- I haven’t been feeling dizzy or glazed or anything. I’ve just been kind of confused, distracted lately. But it’s not an obsession or anything weird like that - I don’t think.” 

Taeil laughs softly, drawing away, pocketing his wand before rummaging in the drawers beside the table. “I don’t think that’s a love potion there, Hyuckie. I think you’ve come down with a terrible curse of the crushes.”

Donghyuck stares at him for half a beat before dropping his gaze. “Oh,” he murmurs. It sounds so silly, so obvious now that Taeil had mentioned it. Then he glances up at the previous owner of all his affections, affections that hadn’t simply disappeared after Taeil’s graduation, merely been dulled and realises that time really hadn’t had an effect on Donghyuck’s feelings at all. “Right.”

He stumbles up, hastily drawing his robe back on, and making sure his wand in his pocket. “Great, I mean- thanks hyung, I appreciate it and all. I’m sure I’ll figure it out, or just ignore it,” he lets out a high pitched laugh, awkward enough to put Mark Lee to shame before running out the Hospital Wing. 

An arm closes around his wrist before he can make it very though and Donghyuck turns to see Taeil smiling gently at him. “Here,” he says, pressing something into Donghyuck’s hand and letting go of him. Donghyuck opens his hand to see a chocolate frog, the Valentine’s day edition, pink all over with a sparkling red heart in the middle, sitting in the center of his palm. “I hope you do figure it out, Donghyuck, not just ignore it,” Taeil goes on, patting Donghyuck’s cheek gently with his hand, his soft fingers lingering on the curve of Donghyuck’s cheek before letting go. “Anyone blessed with your affections is a very lucky person indeed.”

Donghyuck’s pretty sure the flush on his cheeks outshines all the candles in the hallways all the way back to his dormitory. 


	9. they think i'm insane, they think my lover is strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 9: monsters

The change in temperature from the village to the forest surrounding it is severe. The trees press together mere steps in, the bright sunshine of the outside succumbing to dark leaves and darker shadows which crawl over the ground, nipping at the heels, waiting to pounce. 

Donghyuck’s grateful he had the foresight to bring his cloak, and pulls it from his basket, the heavy red fabric settling like a second skin over his body. He draws the hood up, just to keep any prying fae from catching a glimpse of him lest they decide to follow him back home and kidnap for their own, and keeps moving forward, one careful foot in front of the other, watchful for where the soil gives way to muddy undergrowth. 

Far from the village is where the best herbs lie, hidden gems that rarely reveal themselves. Hardly anyone from Donghyuck’s village knew where to find them and so the task was often left up to him. But another secret that no one else knew, that only Donghyuck was privy to, was the tiny lake in the middle of the forest. It was where the rarest of medicines grew, the sweetest of fruits, the freshest herbs. The lake was hardly large, a little bigger than a quarter of a mile across, but the water was cool and clear and Donghyuck felt he could think clearest when he was there. 

He ducks under a low hanging branch, snapping a twig under his shoes and there’s a rustle behind him in the leaves. Donghyuck straightens, casting a wary eye behind him but when no further noises follow, he moves on.

Despite the silence following him, Donghyuck’s heart rate ratches up, pounding loudly in his ears as he passes through the forest, trying to make his steps as soft as possible. Though, if there were something or someone following him, they had already clocked onto his position - useless now, to try and run away. 

He pauses to adjust his shoe, plucking a pebble that had wound its way under the sole and in that half a second, between his breaths, a twig behind him snaps. Donghyuck swirls around, eyes raking in his surroundings, seeking for something, _anything_, that didn’t belong there. All he sees is more brush and trees. Green and brown and more green. Nothing. 

Donghyuck stands there for the longest time, his heart in his throat but then he decides to move on. If something were to try and kill him, it would be best to be near the water, where his magic would be strongest. 

He hurries toward the lake, stepping lightly over the roots of trees and jumping over low lying bushes and he _swears _he can hear the soft panting of someone, behind him, chasing him. Donghyuck speeds up, flat out running now, his blood nervously thrumming in his veins, adrenaline shooting him forward and then he hears it. A growl rockets out of the brush behind and terror shoots down Donghyuck’s back. 

He speeds up, nearly slamming his face into a branch hanging at eye level and in the distance, through the leaves, spies the blue shimmer of the lake. 

Just a little farther. 

He just needs to be a _little_ quicker. 

Just as he reaches the edge of the clearing, arms wrap around his stomach and he goes flying, someone wrapped heavily around his body. They land in the plush grass and Donghyuck cries out, face pressed into the ground. 

A low laugh ripples behind him and then there’s a nose brushing the shell of his ear, something that is unmistakably a fang tracing his neck. 

“Caught you, little one.”

Donghyuck slumps, all the fight leaving me. “I made it to the lake,” he whines into the grass. “I won!” 

The laugh comes again and then Donghyuck finds himself being flipped to meet his captor’s warm gaze. “I caught you before you touched the water, that was our bet little one,” Johnny says, through a mouthful of fangs. He’s half shifted, ears pointy, his fangs glinting in the bright sunshine that streams down around them, his limbs straining at the seams in his clothes. His eyes are red. “But by all means, we can call it your win if you’d like.”

Donghyuck scrunches his nose up at him. “Don’t patronise me,” he scolds, absentmindedly tracing the curves of Johnny’s fangs, which are resting against his bottom lip, with his finger. “I’ll win one of these days, just you wait.”

“I suppose then we’ll have to keep coming back here then,” Johnny muses before his grin grows sharper. “You do remember the other part of our game don’t you?”

Donghyuck sighs, though he doesn’t mean it. Already there’s an ache of anticipation running through him, already his legs are spreading unconsciously to make room for Johnny’s large body to settle in between them. “You’re going to fuck me like this,” he whispers, the words landing on the edge of a shiver. “Right?” 

“Only if you still want to,” Johnny reminds him, but his eyes get darker, his pupils blowing out at the mere suggestion. “I won’t make you-”

But the rest of the sentence gets swallowed up when Donghyuck twists his fingers in the collar of Johnny’s shirt and tugs him down for a kiss. Johnny growls, his arms tightening around Donghyuck’s body, nearly lifting him off the ground with the force of it as he kisses back, his fangs scraping deliciously against Donghyuck’s lips. 

“Oh, little one,” Johnny murmurs, his hands divesting Donghyuck of his clothing, and gazing down at him with hunger in his eyes. Donghyuck shivers all over at the promise in them. “I’m going absolutely _destroy_ you.”

Donghyuck has fucked Johnny more times than he can count. 

Every time is like a new experience entirely. 

Donghyuck throws a hand over his head, bracing himself against the ground, fingers clenching in the grass as Johnny rocks into him, hard and slow, his fangs pressed against the tendons straining in Donghyuck’s neck. 

Johnny’s control has almost completely faded, telling in the way his face is slowly turning more animalistic, his rhythm faltering, his nails turning more into claws where they’re embedded in Donghyuck’s waist. 

“Johnny,” Donghyuck whimpers out, eyes rolling back in his head at the next thrust Johnny delivers to him sends him scraping up the ground several inches, the press of his cock inside him, the most delicious feeling he’s ever felt. “Oh, _please_.”

“So pretty for me,” Johnny murmurs, his words edging into a growl. He slams his hips faster against him. “My little witch.” His hands fist in the red cloak, spread out below Donghyuck to create a barrier against the rough ground. “The pretty witch with the red cloak. All mine.”

Donghyuck moans as one of Johnny’s hands unlatch from his hip, ghosting over his weeping cock. Johnny’s face dips closer to him, licking over his collarbones, his fangs catching on Donghyuck’s skin. 

“_My_ wolf,” Donghyuck pants out in return, wrapping a leg around Johnny’s back, urging him forward. 

Johnny’s growl rattles his bones. They both lose themselves to the feeling, unable to speak anymore as the rhythm turns frantic, almost vicious in its nature and Donghyuck is unable, _unwilling_, to stop the moans spilling unabashedly from lips. Johnny’s hand disappears from ghosting around his cock, propping himself up in the grass as his hips stutter. 

White and red wash over Donghyuck’s vision when he comes, when Johnny comes filling him up with his come, when he gives himself over to the pleasure covering him. Johnny slumps down against him, panting heavily in his ear and Donghyuck tries as best he can to brace himself, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist. 

“My Donghyuck,” Johnny whispers, pressing a rough kiss to his cheek. “The deadliest witch to ever walk these forests, all mine.”

“Yours,” Donghyuck agrees, smiling softly at him. Whenver they fuck, Johnny’s possessivness only seems to get higher, more intense and it pleases Donghyuck to bask in it. 

It was always nice to know, of course, that you were desirable. Especially by a bloodthirsty monster of the night. 

Johnny slides to the ground beside him and wraps him up in his embrace. Donghyuck presses up against as close as he can and kisses the underside of Johnny’s chin, closing his eyes as he presses his face against Johnny’s chest. 

The red witch and the wolf, together. 

Everything was right again, at last. 


	10. your body's a temple, and I think I pray just for the sight of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 27: body worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> porn is really boring to write. that is my only explanation for this break.

Mark squirms again before Yuta presses his fingers into this jut of his hips and pushes him back down on the bed, pinning him to the mattress.

“Hyung,” Mark starts, voice edging into a whine but Yuta shushes him, rubbing his thumbs over Mark’s skin.

“You told me you wanted this,” Yuta reminds him, glancing up at him through his bangs. He’s let his hair grow even long over the past month and Mark honestly doesn’t know he managed to convince the stylists that neck length hair was an attractive look for a k-pop idol past the year 2008.

“When I was _drunk_,” Mark refutes, but Yuta’s lips curl into a victorious smile. He’s kneeling in between Mark’s legs, on the bed, shirtless. It’s a devastating angle because, even in the low light, Mark can make out the hickies flowering in between his ribs, and one particularly vicious looking bite mark on the curve of his shoulder from when Mark had gotten too enthusiastic after Yuta had edged him for nearly an hour. “You can’t hold that against me, now.”

“Of course I can,” Yuta says easily, teasing Mark’s sweats off. He flushes as the cool air of the room hits his legs, making goosebumps spring up in the wake of Yuta’s fingers. “I just want to make you feel good, baby.”

Mark blushes. He’d let the words out in a moment of weakness. They’d been at some company dinner and Mark had been stuffed to the brim on samgyeopsal and soju, and Yuta had been way too touchy and warm, his arm thrown around the back of Mark’s chair, his fingers teasing at the nape of Mark’s neck. Mark had looked up, about to open his third bottle of soju, to see Yuta looking fondly back down at him, eyes unwavering.

“What?” Yuta had asked him, bending down to whisper by Mark’s ear.

“You keep looking at me,” Mark had mumbled fuzzily, raising a hand to poke at Yuta’s cheekbone. “All the time.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to stop?”

Mark thought about it. “No,” he’d whispered. “I like the- the way you look at me.”

Yuta’s smile had curved up so prettily, Mark had leaned in that instant, ready to kiss it off him. “Whoa, baby.” Yuta gently pushed him back in his seat, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. “You can’t do that here, we’re in public.”

“But you’re _looking_ at me,” Mark had whined and Yuta laughed, dragging him to the bathroom.

As soon as they’d entered, Mark had pressed Yuta up against the door, kissing him hard.

“What’s gotten into you,” Yuta murmured when they finally pulled away from each other. “You’re so needy tonight.”

“Your looks,” Mark insisted. “They make me feel…” He screws his face up. “Feel all warm and soft. Like pudding.”

Yuta’s lips twitched. “Pudding.”

Mark had nodded firmly. “Pudding. I want you to fuck me until I feel like pudding.”

“With this look?” Yuta asked, moving forward.

“Stop that look,” Mark whispers as Yuta leans over him, bracketing his body with his arms. “You’re making…”

“You feel like pudding?” Yuta asks and bursts into laughter when Mark whines, putting his hands up to his face. “Relax baby, I told you, I’m gonna make you feel good.”

He lowers himself down Mark’s chest, kissing his collarbone, down his sternum. Mark gasps breathlessly as Yuta’s mouth trails a burning path down his body, kissing and biting down Mark’s body until he’s pressing the curve of his teeth against Mark’s inner thigh, biting down until Mark’s whimpering, trying to pull away.

“Hyung,” Mark whines.

“You’re so beautiful baby,” Yuta whispers, glancing up at him through his eyelashes. “My beautiful baby boy. So good for me.”

Mark blushes, covering his face with his hands again. “Stop it.”

“Nope,” Yuta says cheerily, his tone at complete odds with how his teeth are sinking into the curve of Mark’s hip. “My pretty, pretty baby boy. So hard working and smart.” He presses his fingers into the tendons standing out against Mark’s thighs, stretched out as far apart as they can get. “So strong.” He glances up at Mark. “All for me, right?”

Mark shudders. “Yes,” he whines. “Only for you, hyung.”

Yuta’s smile is a flash of fire rocketing up Mark’s spine.

He keeps going like that, kissing Mark everywhere, his fingers massaging Mark’s body, words reducing Mark to shivering nothing. To pudding.

Until he’s fucking into Mark, slow and hard, Mark’s legs thrown over Yuta’s shoulders, whining loud enough that Mark knows he’ll get knowing looks thrown suspiciously at him at the table tomorrow morning.

“Baby,” Yuta whispers. “You gotta keep it down.”

“Can’t,” Mark gasps, his fingers dragging into Yuta’s hair. It’s so long now, he can easily twist it between his fingers, pulling him closer. And it helps that Yuta loves getting his hair pulled. “Won’t. Don’t want to.”

He’s sure if Yuta hadn’t spent over an hour in between his legs, he would have stopped fucking Mark right then and there just to draw it out a little longer, as a punishment. But he doesn’t and Mark revels in it.

“My bratty boy,” Yuta hums and digs his fingers into Mark’s ass, yanking him closer and fucking him harder until Mark’s crying out, nearly sobbing against Yuta’s mouth as he comes between them, shaking apart into pieces.

Mark gasps as Yuta slides his legs down, running his hands soothingly up his aching legs. “I did all of that for you and you say this to me.”

“Hyung,” Mark whines, as Yuta slides out of him, leaving him aching and empty despite the orgasm still wracking his body. He reaches up, trying to grab Yuta back down, hips arching up to try and get him back. “No, I’m sorry. Come back, come in me.”

“Nope,” Yuta says with a pout on his face. “You didn’t listen to me. I treated you so well baby boy and you-”

Mark cuts him off with a hard kiss, yanking him closer and pushing him back on the bed. “I’m sorry,” he gasps breathless, close to whimpering. “Hyungie, _please_.”

Yuta moans as Mark slides back down on him, gasping at the overstimulation. “Mark-”

“Please,” Mark begs, bouncing hard on Yuta’s cock. “Hyungie, you can’t do this to me, you can’t.” He doesn’t understand why really why he’s so desperate but Yuta had broken him down to his lowest pieces and now he just really, really _needs_-

Yuta lunges up, wrapping a hand around Mark’s neck, pushing him down until his head hits the foot of the bed and fucking into him so hard Mark nearly blacks out when Yuta comes, his fingers tightening around Mark’s throat, a groan muffled in the curve of Mark’s neck as he shatters apart.

The next morning, Taeil raises an eyebrow at Mark when he joins them for breakfast. The dorm auntie’s gone already so Mark feels no shame whatsoever in sitting down shirtless and reaching for the rice.

“Nice bruises,” Taeil comments, poking at Mark’s neck.

Mark grins, stealing a sausage from Taeil’s plate. “You should see Yuta hyung.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/_donghyuck_)   
[cc](https://curiouscat.me/hyxcheis)


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